I am so thankful for prompts – even if they aren’t a very good fit. The prompt from Caroleknits on Think Write Thursday is to share about a movie I often quote from. Well, if my husband was responding to this prompt he would definitely have a movie in mind and lots of quotes to reference. But I’m not the media person in the family. However, when I read this prompt I realized there are a few lines from movies that pop into my head often – or at least frequently enough I would call them favorite lines with special or significant meaning to me. I’m sure you will recognize them:
“We’re not in Kansas any more.” and “There’s no place like home.” from…..you guessed it – The Wizard of Oz.
The other quote I love and use is from Star Trek – don’t ask me which one or when but it is familiar: “Beam me up Scottie.”
What I think is interesting is how these quotes are related and speak to a common theme I – we – confront often: dealing with change and the unexpected. I don’t think I really realized how much I confront change on a daily basis because in reality, my life is pretty much the same day to day. But the world is changing so fast; I am not living in the 1950’s times I was born into or the 60’s and 70’s I grew up in and yet I am adapting and accepting change.
Part of the reasons I can do that is because “there is no place like home” and… I have people who can beam me up when I need to escape!
One of my yearly summer past times is to visit the nooks and crannies in my home and clean. I find scraps of poems everywhere. Here are today’s findings:
My only visits to the garden lately
have been at midnight.
Only the roses, with their butter-soft faces,
appear in the light of the moon.
I don’t walk to the apple grove anymore;
too many to pick, my children are gone.
I grieve the loss of daybreak baking.
mmm, trying to remember the inspiration – dust bunnies don’t talk…..
i put the poem aside
to simmer for the night
but to no avail.
perhaps the wrong cut
So I’m venturing into the kindness challenge with a week focused on self kindness. One of the ways I try to be kind to myself is to process raw feelings in writing, often poetry. Today I was at work and watching others around me and that little worm of self doubt started to gnaw at me. I decided to write about it and here is my poem for today:
It is still so easy,
to go to that place of self doubt
and persistent knocking from the question:
And the feelings behind the “what ifs”
just shoulda-coulda-wouldas bundled tightly in cocoons,
soggy, with no hope for change.
Definitely not the unfurled, damp wings of a real “What if?”
A real “what if” will slip through a mail slot,
wash ashore on a high tide,
get caught in a branch,
turn up in the wash,
or in a pocket.
A real “what if”
just fell behind because of a loose shoelace,
was out of tune with a broken guitar string,
took time to find its way
because of a lost address,
has my name all over it.
A real “what if”
can be reclaimed
from the lost and found,
built from the re-purposed,
drafted in the re-imagined,
A real “what if”
is just waiting
on the other side of “yet” and “but” and “maybe”
for me to show up.
to show up.
Truth be told, I do most of my writing in the brown leather chair in my living room fondly named “my nest.” I have a notebook and my favorite brand of mechanical pencils there – as well as all sorts of things that have to do with knitting and sewing and reading as well as a place for my coffee mug, a most essential component to my daily writing.
But I have had experiences writing in other places and so in answer to Bonnie’s request to send a photo of a special writing spot, I took a little trip through my memory searching out visual recollections of particularly wonderful places where I’ve nurtured my writing.
The first place I really started writing in earnest was in my college dorm room. Everyone else headed to the library or their boyfriend’s place, but I would curl up by a window and feel like I had the whole 100 year old dorm to myself. I loved looking right into the branches of the majestic trees on campus, eye to eye with the squirrels. Since then I’ve often found myself writing while at water fronts too, first as a camp counselor, then visiting my relatives in Cape Cod, and at home on Puget Sound.
Tree and water vistas are definitely my favorites and were part of my most recent writing experiences as well. Last summer I had the luxury of both landscapes. I went to a week-long art camp at the Grunewald Guild in Leavenworth, WA and sat in my dorm-like room as well as outside under the ponderosa pines. It was extremely hot and as the wifi wasn’t dependable, I really did use my spare time to write – often sitting with my feet in an inflatable pool by the garden within sight of some tall and sturdy holly hocks.
The other excursion was more exotic. My parents invited my husband and I on a small boat cruise in Alaska and I found out I could have the whole front deck to myself if I got up at sunrise. You can get a peek here in a past blog post.
Something I have learned over the past couple of years – mostly since I started blogging, is that I like my writing better when I take the time to do it in a dedicated way – and I’ve noticed a special place really does add not just to the quantity but also the quality.
This where I’m currently writing: